


Lucky Number Seven

by wickederthanyou



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickederthanyou/pseuds/wickederthanyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a choice, Arthur thinks. Everything I've ever known, or everything that he feels is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Number Seven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merlin Reverse Big Bang on LiveJournal, this is prompt #2002. 
> 
> Modern!AU. Arthur is the son of one of the wealthiest men in the United Kingdom. He meets Guinevere and the two soon fall in love. However, his father Uther and sister Morgana do not approve of the relationship. Soon, Arthur is forced with an ultimatum - either he chooses Guinevere and his father will disown him or he loses Guinevere forever.
> 
> Art by Delacours @ Livejournal.com
> 
> Also, I did this as one entry, although it written in short chapters. I may edit it later, but I thought it was short enough to work. I'm still pretty unfamiliar with AO3.

The anger, the silence and the pressure pushed down on him. His arse might as well have been suctioned to the sofa. Him, Morgana and his father sat in a triangle shape around a 19th century persian rug cherished by his mother when she was still alive. Right now, Arthur wished she could’ve been here to balance the tense atmosphere—he and Guinevere might’ve stood a fighting chance with her on their side.

He was on his own though. 

At the first opportunity, Gwen walked her Tom and Elyan to their car then she escaped to her room. It wasn’t even 9 o’clock. Perhaps, that was for the best though. God knows Guinevere couldn’t possibly want to marry him after sitting through five minutes of this much loathing. If it came down to it, he would’ve told them what they wanted to hear. If they browbeat him into submission, Arthur would willingly admit that on its surface, the whirlwind romance appeared farcical.

“Six months ago when you came to me with this, this asinine idea you and your idiot friends cooked up, what did you say to me?”

Arthur bowed his head to his father, like he’d done so many times before in this very room and whispered, “Father, please—”

“Look at me when you speak.”

In a delayed reaction, first his head then his eyes lifted. Arthur breathed in, straightened his back. ”I said ‘Don’t worry, father. I’m not going to fall in love’”.

“And what you’re saying to me now, is something quite different.” His father leaned forward. Shadows in the room danced off of his wrinkled and weary features. “So which Arthur should I believe? The Arthur from six months ago? Or the one sitting here in front of me tonight, telling me he’s in love with a woman he’s known for eight days?”

The silence almost seemed like a comfort now. 

Arthur looked for help from his sister. None came. Sitting perfectly erect, Morgana seemed an exact replica of the painting of their mother in the library, except their mother was blond like him. Morgana’s mouth twitched, her fingers tapped the wooden arm of the chair. It was a nervous habit. His older sister developed it before he could remember. 

Sensing what might come next, Arthur slumped in the sofa and said nothing.

***

“I anticipated resistance from him. He’s a cold, hardened man now. These last years since mother died, they’ve made him cynical about everything. Even the prospects of his own children one day finding love of their own.”

“You can’t blame him for this.”

“I wanted you on my side, Morgana. I more than hoped for it. This isn’t about blame.”

“Arthur, you couldn’t have thought—”

“I know you’re no romantic—”

“You’ve never been one either. Unless you consider chasing one girl after the next being a romantic.”

“She’s not like the others.”

“Arthur, it isn’t fair for you to bring her here, insisting we accept what you’ve done.” Wracked with frustration, Morgana’s voice rose and she drew nearer, but he gave her a warning look and his sister stopped walking towards him. She sighed. “It’s not fair to her,” she said in a softer tone.

“People fall in love, all the time, Morgana. This isn’t that ridiculous.”

“You can’t be serious. She’s a game show contest you met last week for god’s sake.”

“She chose me.”

“So you propose to her on a live television show? Arthur, it was a few thousand pounds, not the bloody crown jewels. This girl has no job, probably no money. And you, you herd us all here, to have this disastrous dinner just so you could tell us that you still want to go through with it.”

“I wouldn’t say it was a disaster—“

“Those poor people didn’t know what to expect of us.”

“No, they didn’t, but at least they were supportive of Guinevere.” 

“And why wouldn’t they be?” She shrugged. “They have everything to gain. Arthur, how could you possibly know enough about her to make this sort of decision?”

_How?_

_Perhaps because I love her and she loves me, that’s how. Why couldn’t that be enough?_

“Have you even considered that this girl was bright enough to turn down the money because she’d gotten you as a consolation prize?”

“I love her, Morgana, so I’m asking you now to stop before you say something that neither of us can forgive.”

It wasn’t as if he announced they were getting married tomorrow. 

Morgana swept her long, black hair from off her shoulder and turned away. She crossed her arms, her profile grimacing as she stared into the hearth with no fire lit inside it.

“So is that it then?”

“Yes,” she grumbled. “There’s really nothing left to say, is there, Arthur?”

“No. I suppose there isn’t.”

He left her, climbed the stairs to the second floor landing. Trying to calm down, Arthur dragged his feet, walking in a wayward circle. He eyed both hallways as he made the constant turn. Down one hall were all of his father’s expectations, childhood memories, the bed he’d slept in since he was two years-old, and all the creature comforts of being a Pendragon. Arthur planted both feet and looked over his other shoulder, to the guests’ rooms, to Guinevere. 

It was a choice. Go one way and bend to his father’s will. Go the other and risk it all.

What were perhaps his father’s last words to him, echoed in the space around his ears. _“If she loves you then let her prove it. Choose to marry this girl and I will no longer consider you my flesh and blood. You won’t be welcomed under any of my roofs.”_

A powerful man’s ultimatum. Or an overwhelming and unwavering belief?

“Time to decide, Arthur,” he whispered into the stillness.

***

“So, tomorrow’s our last day, locked away in this flat.”

“Today, actually. Look. It’s already after midnight.” 

She barely recognized her own voice cradled in the arms of a handsome, insanely perfect man, in what still was a strange bed, a dozen cameras on the other side of the door always on the ready, constantly watching and broadcasting every moment of her life. It must be a dream. It couldn’t be real, except that it really was. 

Arthur shuffled underneath her. Her head and half her body were draped across his naked chest. Gwen eased her leg off his thigh so he could gain leverage. His muscles rippled against her flesh. The sensation sparked flutters in her belly. Gwen couldn’t remember the last time she felt so safe. He moved again, sitting up and she raised her head. Gwen smiled and stared into his blue eyes, quietly contemplating what he might be thinking.

_It’s a lot of money to turn down, but she couldn’t accept it; not with everything she was feeling for him._

Gwen stopped thinking. She blinked and when she brought her mind back to the room, the look on Arthur’s face had changed. He lurched forward, covering her mouth with his and taking her last breath. Blood rushed to the top layer of her skin setting it on fire. The pleasing warmth fanned out over her body in every direction, running down her legs and settling into her toes. Her nipples stiffened to hard points. 

Could Arthur feel the heat in their kiss? Could he feel her heart thumping against their chests? 

“I can’t believe I found you in all this chaos,” he whispered into their kiss. “Like it was fate.”

_Fate? Fate._

Slowly, reluctantly, Gwen pulled away. Reasoning yammered at the back of her head, but to her, the voice of reason sounded timid. Gwen smiled. “I’m happy that you did.”

***

Struggling with the disjointed feeling of Arthur’s hand blocking off her vision, she took slow, awkward steps straight ahead. They made a turn to her right and Arthur nudged her to her left. “More to that way.” Her arm brushed against something.

“What was that?”

“Wall,” he answered and Gwen laughed. 

“I’m trusting you with life and limb, Pendragon.”

His fingers tensed around her hip and Arthur lower his broad frame onto her back, weighing down her shoulders. His breath caressed her neck as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Her stomach dropped. Other parts of her body surprised too with the way they reacted. A broad grin spread over her face a second later and she blurted out an unattractive cackling sort of screech when something grazed her thigh and he swallowed her up in an embrace.

“Saved you from banging into that.”

“Only just,” she said.

“We’re nearly there. It’ll be worth it.”

Arthur placed her securely in a seat in the kitchen. He loosened his fingers over her eyes, but didn’t remove them.

“Arthur!”

“One more second.”

Gwen gave a fleeting thought to the possible locations of the cameras. She couldn’t tell which chair he’d put her in.

“Okay. Ready?” Arthur asked.

She nodded and took his hand away. Blinking her eyes, she focused.

“Arthur. Oh, I can’t believe you did this.”

“It’s just a cupcake, I know, but given our current predicament, it was the best I could come up with.” 

The cupcake was iced with pink and blue frosting, a single candle stuck out of the middle. Arthur reached around her. He ignited a lighter and held it over the wick. He dragged the other chair from around the table and eased in beside her. He kept one hand on the back of her chair, smiling, sending her a secret message with just his stare. It was almost, always there in his eyes now. That look that made her knees turn to jelly. 

“Disappointed?”

“Not at all,” she said.

They moved closer to one another.

“I really wanted to be the first to wish you happy birthday. Happy Birthday, Guinevere.”

She couldn’t resist smiling or another taste of his lips. He kissed her back, but not anything like last night. Raw hunger sated, they were free to enjoy themselves on a different level.

When their lips parted, she told him, “I haven’t…,” she started, but at the last instance she stifled the truth, “…Arthur, I haven’t been surprised like this in ages. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” They kissed again. “Now, make a wish.”

***

She wasn’t sure whether he was crowing her for the sake of the camera shining on them or just because the music was blaring so loud that close conversation was the only way to have any conversation. She tried not to move an inch in any direction thought. Shifting towards him definitely constituted an invasion of space. They were still strangers after all, even with all the flirting and the coy looks. The alternative meant moving away and that would rob her of the warm feeling of him. Sweat pricked her skin and knots form in her stomach.

_Why did I agree to do this? I shouldn’t be here with him. And why am I so bloody keen to see him with all his clothes off?_

“You seem different tonight,” Arthur said. “Still nervous?”

She couldn’t help it. She kept glancing at the little red dot on top of the camera. Four days under its persistent glare, worrying about what would happen on the other side of the seven days, about her reputation, about what family and friends might think, and she still couldn’t behave properly before it.

She breathed in and breathed out.

“Guinevere, is anything the matter? Are you ill?”

“Oh, no. No. It’s not anything like that.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“It’s embarrassing is what it is. Excruciatingly embarrassing.”

“Come on. It’s just the two of us,” he said and grinned. Gwen ducked her eyes and smiled. “I tell you what.” He pulled a pen from inside his jacket pocket, handed it to her and opened his palm. “Write it down. That way it’ll be our little secret and no one else will ever know. I swear.”

She looked from Arthur to the camera recording them and somehow she worried less. Gwen took his hand and wrote into it. When her eyes found his again, his gaze dropped to her lips then jumped back up. A long moment passed then he glanced down at her handwriting in his palm and chuckled. 

He wanted to kiss her. She knew it and she wished he had, or she wished she’d had to courage to do it herself.

_Four days. You’ve only known him for four days, Gwen. What does four days add up to in hours? Minutes? Seconds?_

Arthur closed his palm and said, “Me either.” 

They both laughed.

He took another sip of his drink and she smiled into the camera.

***

Arthur knocked, casually checking his watch. After three knocks she pulled open the door, revealing just her face and a bounty of curly hair. Smiling, Gwen rested the side of head against the doorframe and asked in a soft voice, “What are you doing here, mister?”

Already he felt more at ease.

“I needed to talk. Did I wake you?”

“No,” she answered and let him in. “Just talk?”

He smirked. Significantly shorter, kissing Guinevere when she was barefooted required him to bend and her to stand on tiptoes. Often, she threw her arms around his shoulders. “Mostly to talk,” he said and kissed her.

“So I guess you’ll be sleeping in my room after all, but—” Her phone interrupted the slow progression of their flirting. She broke away, walked over to the nightstand and silenced the beeps. “They just keep coming.”

“What’s that?”

“The emails. The calls. I don’t even know how some of them are getting my mobile.”

“Your an online CV. You listed it.”

“Right. Nearly forgot about that,” she said and sat then she shot him a look.

“Merlin, showed it to me.”

“You were checking up on me.”

“Not before we…officially met.” 

And how they met?

On a TV reality show.

_Lucky Number Seven._

It was his creation. His show. The latest addition to the network and the premise was simple. Two strangers, one a blind date, and seven days together, cut off the rest of the world (although, the rest of the world were given an opportunity to watch them 24/7). They had to agree to give up work, friends, their phones, computers for seven days. At the end of the week, both of them could walk away with a thousand pounds for each day, or they could give up the money and find out whether or not the other person like them that much too. 

The tabloids labeled the idea as rubbish. But from the outset, social media couldn’t stop talking it. The afternoon Pendragon Media released the first promotional images, with its white on black silhouette, the show trended on Twitter. It surprised everyone when it was revealed that he’d be one half of the first episode’s pairing and his father was right for reminding him that he never expected to land in this situation. But by the end of their date, Arthur knew the show would be a success and he knew there was something special about her.

Arthur joined her on the bed, preparing to tell her the worse of it. 

“So who’s calling?” he asked.

“Everyone.” Eyes wide, Gwen continued. “They’re all sorts of messages. Some of them want me on their morning shows. Some of them want to hire me. Someone even offered me a book contract.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded and told him, “All because of you. They all think I’ll be Mrs. Arthur Pendragon soon, so they want to interview me. And you too.”

“Well, it’s only right that P.M. should get the first interview.” 

Arthur drew in a deep breath. If his father disowned him then he was disowned. P.M. was no longer a part of his inheritance. 

“Guinevere, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“All right then. Go on. I’m ready.”

She tucked her feet under her and set her shoulders back. As hard as it was to tell her he didn’t have his family’s blessing, no amount of pacing could’ve prepared him for the disappointment on her face. Arthur speared her the details though and omitted the part about being disowned.

”So they don’t like me.”

“No.”

“Oh god. They hate me.”

He took her by the shoulders and said, “No. Guinevere, listen to me.” He sighed. “I haven’t always made the best decisions. They think this is another. Well, my father does anyway. Morgana’s only siding with him because, well, that’s what she usually does.”

Embarrassed, he cast his eyes down. 

Guinevere's father and brother were gracious tonight. They were kind people. He could imagine himself with Tom and Elyan at the pub. 

She placed her hand on his knee and smoothed it up his thigh. “What if they’re right, Arthur? I mean. Did we get swept up in the moment? I don’t know. Was it me giving up the money… Did you, did you just…”

“Did I just what? Commit to spending the rest of my life with you on whim?”

She sighed then said, “No, but perhaps we’re not thinking straight. Maybe we still aren’t?”

“I don’t believe that, not for a second. Do you?”

She shook her head. Guinevere brought her hand to his and he squeezed it. “I don’t feel that way at all. I don't know why, but I don't. Aren’t we supposed to though?”

“I tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you get dressed and we leave here together?”

“And go where? The photographers are definitely still camped outside my flat. And yours.”

“A hotel then. Just for a few days until the fervor dies down.”

“Will it ever?”

“It will soon,” he told her.

Guinevere undressed then dressed while he wrestled with thoughts of what awaited them at the hotel and the disorder plaguing their new life. They walked, holding hands trying to decide whether they should sleep somewhere posh or somewhere really posh. Neither of them saw or heard his father until the senior Pendragaon said, “Arthur.”

Arthur cleared his throat. It was wrong to harbor hopes. Uther Pendragon prided himself on being a man of word. 

“I thought you’d retired for the evening, father.”

“Where are you going?”

Pause.

A part of him still felt like a boy in his father’s presence. But he’d long since outgrown his childish way. Their frayed relationship robbed his father from witnessing the evolution. He wasn’t a child anymore, and his father needed to understand that. 

“We’re leaving,” he told him. The words sounded strong and full of conviction. Just the way he wanted it to. “Both of us.”

“I see. So then you’ve made your choice. And you’ll allow him to go through with this?” He directed his ire at Guinevere now. “You’d let him throw away himself deeper into this spectacle?”

Confused, Gwen turned to him and asked, “Arthur?”

Without thinking, he said, “My father has asked me to make a choice. I’m choosing you, Guinevere.”

“You’re choosing me, Arthur. Instead of what exactly?”

“Instead of everything. But if it means I lose you, I can live without it.”

Guinevere’s eyes never blinked. They never wavered from his. Not once. 

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes,” he answered right away.

She smiled and let go of his hand. His heart skipped. Guinevere crossed the landing and marched over to his father. 

“I love your son, Mr. Pendragon and I know this must sound strange to you, but I would do anything for him. Including letting him make his own choices.“

She stuck her hand out between them. His father’s glare narrowed on him. He fell in love with her fast. He fell in love with her hard. Arthur wasn’t certain he could love Guinevere any more than he did standing there in awe of her. He’d be happy to spend the rest of his life trying to find out if he could. 

***

Calling a penthouse suite at a hotel your home for a week had it’s pluses and minuses. First, there’s the stunning views of London from the balcony, especially at nighttime. And all the luxury, the marble and rich Egyptian cotton they crammed into every inch of every room. The food was amazing. Gwen tasted her first (and what might be her last) bite of Beluga caviar and she drank champagne with dinner. 

By far, just being alone with Arthur was the best part. They spent a fair amount of time between those sumptuous sheets, but most of the time, they wore matching hotel robes and lounging on the sofa. They avoided the telly and turned off their phones. In a way, it was like being back at the house. She missed having tea with her dad and the occasional row with Elyan. 

“Arthur.”

“Hmm?” he mumbled. Gwen waited patiently for him to raise his eyes. Finally he did, then he folded the paper and said, “Sorry.” Arthur reached for her arm. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter.” Gwen touched his cheek and he leaned his face in her palm. “You know I love you. And I love being here with you, but at some point we have to go out there.”

Arthur chuckled, kissed her. “You’re right. We can’t hide forever.”

“I don’t want to hide. I want us to get on with our life. Unless…” He frowned and pinched her lips together.

“Guinevere, marry me right now,” he said. “I’ve found some places we live, and, we can start moving in and you can make a long list of all the things I can’t bring along because you hate them.”

Gwen chuckled. “I’m pretty sure everything you own are much nicer than mine.”

“Nevertheless, if we’re going to live together, we’ll need our things. Here. Look at this place,” he said and pointed on an image on the iPad screen.

It was a listing for a gorgeous flat. It was also massive and nothing she imagine they could afford.

“Arthur it would take us longer to furnish a place like that than…”

She faced him.

_Didn't he think they were rushing into the actual marriage at all?_

“I don’t want to wait, Guinevere.”

_Guess not._

“Not even for your father to come around?”

“My father’s difficult, Guinevere. We could be his age before that man changes his mind.”

Tilting her head, she said, “That would be tragic.”

_Weeks. That was all. They hadn’t dated for months, and not years. But if they were going to get through this rough patch, she’d have to trust him as much as she loved him._

The doorbell to the suite rang before he finished closing in again for another kiss. “Even if we wanted to hide out here, I don’t think we could. Did you order something?”

“No,” she told him. 

Arthur went to the door.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Pendragon, it’s Maria Stanton. I’m the hotel manager.”

Gwen sat up on the sofa and adjusted her robe as he opened the door and the hotel manager walked into their suite. The woman’s face seemed a mix of faux pleasantry and agitation. When she looked in her direction, Maria forced a smile before turning back to Arthur with her arms crossed.

“Mr. Pendragon. There are a gaggle of reporters and media people downstairs in my lobby. They’ve somehow discover that you and your lovely fiance are staying here and each of those vultures are trying to kill the other so that they’ll get to snap a photograph of one or both of you.” 

Arthur folded his arms. “Well, I can’t control them.”

“Well, I’ve tolerated it this long because, truthfully, it has been good for business, but now with these rumors surfacing-”

“What rumors?” Gwen asked, stood and went over to them.

Maria nervously glanced at her then at Arthur. She looked any but at them when she added, “The rumors about your ouster.”

“My ouster? Is that all?” Arthur asked.

“It’s been all over the news.”

“We’ve been avoiding the telly,” Gwen explained.

“Not to worry. We won’t be here much longer. I doubt we’ll be spending our honeymoon in London.” Gwen blushed and Arthur pulled her near. “Where are we going on honeymoon,” he whispered and she shrugged, fighting back a strong urge to match Arthur’s grin. “You’ll need a dress and I’ll need a suit.”

“We’ll have to go outside for those,” she told him.

Deep creases wrinkled his forehead.

“We could take care of it,” Maria said and both of their heads swiveled around. “Provided you have the wedding here this weekend. A bride’s ran off with the best man’s,” she said and her stern appearance relaxed long enough to allow a tight smile. “There’s room to accommodate a few hundred guests. I could show you both this afternoon.”

Arthur squeezed her shoulder into his body. “Fate,” he said softly.

“Pardon me?” Maria asked. Arthur didn’t answer and at once Gwen knew he wouldn’t until she answered his question from earlier.

“Maria, would it be possible for us to get married here? Out there?” Gwen pointed to the balcony. I’ve always wanted my wedding to be intimate. Just a few friends and some family.”

Her heart was heavy and flooded with guilt.

“I think something intimate would be just right for us,” Arthur told her. 

“I think we could work something out.”

“Good. Lets get started on the planning then shall we. And why don’t we go downstairs and see if we can't get rid of your other little problem.”

***

Everything started moving a lot faster from then on. As if the maelstrom they were already in needed any more encourage. It just happened though. He and Gwen, along with Maria, went down to the lobby just to thin out the herd with a quick announcement. Before he knew it, they revealed to the nation that the latest development. Now Morgana was on her way upstairs to see him.

Gwen sat on the coffee table in the living room of the suite, biting her bottom lip. He was good at reading people just by their body language. He learned about a few gestured from Morgana when they were kids and as he got older, Arthur realized that reading people was a useful tool. On their first date, Gwen must’ve bit on that corner of her lip a hundred times. Between that and offering to make everyone tea, he knew whenever she felt uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he said and flinched. “Lets go out for lunch today, okay?”

“Okay.” She glanced at the door. She used to glance at the camera crew like that. 

“It’s fine. Morgana wouldn’t be here unless she had something important to say.”

“Right,” she agreed, nodding. 

“It’s probably nothing.”

She nodded again, totally unconvinced, and went back to chewing on her lip. Her body seemed to be contracting from the tension building inside her. The doorbell to the suite rang and Guinevere froze. 

“I’ll get it.”

“No. I will,” she said.

Surprised, Arthur sit still and watched her stand, walk over to the double doors and opened it on his sister.

“Guinevere,” she said.

“Gwen.”

“Of course.”

His sister was smiling. That had to good. Even he was starting to believe what he told Gwen a second ago. He rose and took a few steps around the table while they returned to the middle of the room.

“Arthur.”

“It’s good to see you.”

Morgana bobbed her head. She looked around the room, examining the contents of their suite.

“So, why are you here?” he asked to get her attention.

“I thought I should come to see you. After what happened a few days ago, I thought it might make sense. You know, before you go on television again and tell me, along with all of England, that your having your first child.”

His jaw tense. He took aim and was about to fire back when Gwen touched him on the arm.

“I think are days in front of the camera are over,” she told Morgana.

“I should hope so.”

“It was an accident. We didn’t plan on telling everyone about the wedding the way we did,” Gwen explained.

Morgana looked around the room again and then locked eyes with him. “He wasn’t pleased with him,” she said. “In fact, I’m certain if he had another child, I would’ve been disowned too.”

Frowning, Arthur asked, “What are you talking about?”

“After your press conference the other day, I told Father I would be at your wedding. I told him I didn't want to miss what might be the happiest day of my brother’s life, or never to get to know the person responsible for it.”

Morgana smiled. He let out a breath and Gwen squeezed his forearm.

“We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in,” Morgana said. “If you’d like, I could help you with your dress?”

Gwen’s brown eyes glistened. Tears welling up, she took two steps and embraced his sister. His eyes connect with hers. Arthur smiled. He mouthed thank you to her and she smiled back at him.

Having one family member at his wedding and in his corner meant more than he could say, but the rejection from his father stung, it cut deep. Not only because of him, but for the woman who would soon be his wife.

***

Did other brides experience this? This absence of anguish. It felt like a permanent state of euphoria and for as far as she could see, Arthur was right. It felt like fate.

Gwen woke relaxed and calm. She missed Arthur’s warm body on his side of the bed, but she ate breakfast with Morgana and the idea of being the woman’s sister-in-law started to take on a whole new flavor. 

Her family arrived late in the afternoon. Dressed in tuxedos, the sight of Elyan and her father sent the first glimmer of anxiety through her body. Morgana popped in to check up on her and to give her an antique comb with sapphires encrusted along the curve. She told her that it belonged to their mother. 

Just after she walked out of the bedroom in her wedding gown, she started crying.

“I should’ve worn waterproof makeup.”

“Brides are supposed to cry on their wedding day,” Morgana said and cleaned up the tear stains under her eyes. “Now, if you’re certain you want to marry my brother, he’s waiting for you.”

Arthur was out there waiting for her. She looked down at the large diamond ring on her left hand. He surprised her with it. It was beautiful, elegant. 

Gwen stood, smoothed the front of her white dress. Someone knocked.

“Come in.”

“Ah, Gwen, darling—”

“I’m ready now, Dad.”

“No,” he said. “There’s someone here to see you. I think you should come out and see who it is.”

Weary, she gathered up her skirts and followed her father, stopping dead in her tracks when they walked out and she saw Uther Pendragon.

“You look lovely,” he said to her.

Gwen gaped and gawked. He was here. Did Arthur know? He was here and he was dress in a suitable tux. He was dressed for the wedding. For her wedding.

“I don’t want to keep Arthur in any more suspense.”

“Daddy, could you please give us a minute.”

“Of course. I’ll be right out here.”

They gave her father enough time to get out of earshot before either of them spoke. 

“Mr. Pendragon”

“Please. You’re about to marry my son, Guinevere. We should not be so formal.”

_Did he just say that? To her?_

There were all these thoughts chasing around her mind. There were so many things she wanted to say, but in the end she told him, “Thank you for coming.”

“He and I haven’t almost seen eye to eye. And we argue. I wouldn’t have imagine this for him. For all his faults, Arthur was only reckless to a point. He always knew when to pull back. I was wrong and I needed to prove to him that I was wrong. If he loves you, then all I could wish for is for you to love him just as much.”

“I do,” she told him.

Uther nodded. “I trust his judgment. And yours. May I?” he asked and offered her his arm. “I hope to walk Morgana down the aisle one day, but it would see me right to walk you to your father.”

Gwen smiled, hooked her arm around his. 

“My son is lucky to have found love.”

“He calls it fate,” Gwen said.

Her father turned around and for the first time Gwen saw the balcony just beyond the living room where a few of their friends and their family stood on either side of a path that led to Arthur. She saw his face perk up. That made her smile.

Was it luck or fate or something else entirely?

Only time would tell, she guessed.

**Author's Note:**

> Being that it was set up as a modern!au, I tried to imagine a scenario where Uther, and Morgana especially, could rationally object to Arthur and Gwen's relationship in the present day because I just did not want this story to be bogged down by issues with class or race. Nothing is wrong with those subjects btw. I just wanted to write a short story about love, and how love, sometimes, can surprise and delight us and also how when we lose love, we sometimes become so recalcitrant and skeptical of other people's relationships. I hope I came close to accomplishing that.
> 
> This will likely be my last writing contribution to the Merlin fandom. I still enjoy writing Arwen fics, but I just don't have the time anymore and I screwed up this challenge so much. I never gave my artist a chance to read this story, so unfortunately that they could make any art for it. My apologies to her, the mods over at MRBB and to all the Arwen fans who wanted something cool out of this.


End file.
